


All You Need is Some Chicken Soup

by t_dragon



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 13:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12935916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_dragon/pseuds/t_dragon
Summary: Prompt 9033: Jongin used to have his mother to fix his broken umbrella. But when his mother died, he made himself comfortable running under the rain. However, on this particular day, he heard someone call him an idiot for not bringing one.





	All You Need is Some Chicken Soup

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, this was a hard one, but I still adore the prompt... It was fun to write! Hope you like it, prompter, and readers~!

_“Jonginnie, how do you always manage to break your umbrella?”_

_Ten-year-old Jongin gave a pout at his mother’s beration, huffing a bit._

_“It wasn’t my fault, it just… Broke!”_

_Jongin’s mother gave a twinkling laugh, and it made Jongin smile a bit as well, as she reached forwards to cup his cheek with one hand._

_“I guess you have really bad luck with your umbrellas, then, dear,” his mother said, smiling warmly. “No matter which umbrella you use, they always break!”_

_“It’s okay, you can always fix them for me, mom,” Jongin answered, shrugging a bit._

_His mother bit her lip, still smiling, as her hands were working with the umbrella, and then, just like that, she opened it, and it was working again._

_“It seems like I can,” she said, and they laughed together as she handed the umbrella back to Jongin, and sent him on his way to school. “I’ll see you tonight, Jonginnie!”_

 

_Jongin’s mother always managed to fix Jongin’s umbrella, to shield him from the rain. Until the rain took her away from him._

_He was sixteen, and it had been an usual Tuesday evening. Except for the storm, but storms were not that uncommon. They had been on their way home from grocery shopping, happily singing along to songs on the radio._

_Out of nowhere, another car had collided with theirs, sending them skidding across the road. Jongin’s mother had tried to get control over the car back, but it had been raining so hard it had been futile. Jongin did not remember much from that moment, except for the paralyzing fear he had been feeling and the screeching of tires._

_They had gone off the road, the car rolling into a patch of trees. Jongin had gotten a large branch pierced through his shoulder, proving non-fatal. His mother had not been as lucky._

_After Jongin had woken up, crying from the intense pain, he had felt a pressure in his hand, fingers lacing with his own. They had been so cold, but he had been so cold himself that he had barely noticed it. And when rescue finally came, pulling him from the wreck that had been their car, the dead-hand grip on his hand had not released, and Jongin would never forget the feeling of it, or the sound of the rescue workers prying his mother’s fingers away from him._

_He had never wanted to let go, but he had been forced to. And now, he was alone._

_The funeral had been delayed until after Jongin was well enough to attend, and it was raining as if the angels were crying over his mother. Jongin hated it. It was them who took her away, so why would they cry over her? It was their tears that stole her from him, how did they dare cry now?_

_Jongin had been carrying his usual umbrella, and as he was about to open it, he noticed that it did not work. It had broke, again._

_Only this time, his mother was not there to help him fix it._

_And so, Jongin stood in the rain, deciding that he would get used to it. His mother was not there to help him with his umbrella, so Jongin would get used to walking in the rain._

 

~*~

 

 Jongin looked outside of the window, and sighed. The sky had looked grey throughout the day, but now it was actually raining, and Jongin cursed his luck. Just fifteen minutes to go, and _now_ it decided to start to rain? Jongin really hated the rain.

 Fifteen minutes later, the bell rang, and Jongin quickly packed up his things. Throwing one last glance outside, he saw that it was still raining, and it seemed like it had gotten worse. Really, he had been cursed. Nothing he could do about it, though…

 Putting his jacket on, Jongin pulled the hood over his head, hoping it would help at least a bit. He absently massaged his right shoulder, the old scar aching in the cold weather. Jongin really hated rain, and he strongly disliked autumn.

 Slipping his backpack onto his shoulders, Jongin checked his phone, trying to ignore the date as he realized he might make it onto the next train if he hurried now. Pushing past other students, Jongin sprinted out of the doors and straight into the downpour.

 His jacket was made to withstand different kinds of weathers, but it was not completely waterproof, and Jongin knew it was only a matter of time before the water would start seeping in. His jeans were already starting to get drenched, clinging uncomfortably to his legs, and his feet were also starting to get wet.

 Rushing down the streets, Jongin managed to make it to the train station just in time, and hurried aboard the train to take him home. His breathing was a bit strained, coming in small puffs, getting trapped in the scarf around his neck and making it sticky, and slightly disgusted, Jongin pulled it down and away from his face.

 It was not a long ride between the university and his home, but when they arrived at the station, Jongin was shivering from the cold. He stayed still, though, not exiting with the others, not thinking of why he did not, either.

 A few more stops went by, then Jongin finally exited the train, and even though it was still raining, he now walked at a leisurely pace. What did it matter, he was already well on his way to being drenched, and it was not as if a little rain had ever killed anyone.

 Jongin forcefully pushed the memories of a dark, stormy night out of his mind.

 After having walked for about ten minutes, Jongin arrived at his destination. Opening the wrought iron gate, he quickly stepped inside, before closing the gate again, and headed down the paved walkway. After a little while, he turned down onto a smaller walkway, the sound of the gravel crunching beneath his feet almost drowned out by the pouring rain.

 Then he turned and put his foot down on the grass to his right, and suddenly his steps became slower and slower, until he came to a halt in front of a small gravestone. Semi-fresh flowers were sitting in the holders, and Jongin assumed his grandparents had already visited. After all, he was a day late.

 “I’m sorry, mom, for being late,” Jongin mumbled as he sank down to his knees, one hand gently touching the gravestone. “I’m a really bad son, but I just… It hurt too much yesterday. I know you would forgive me, though, and tell me not to worry. Take things at my own pace…”

 It had been three years. Three years since that horrible accident, three years since Jongin had last held his mother’s hand as her life had slipped away, leaving her grip cold and dead. Three years since Jongin had started to walk without an umbrella in the rain. Three years, and the pain had yet to subside. Some said that time would heal all wounds, and fade all the pain, but Jongin knew. He knew that was not true. No, the mental wounds never healed, and the pain never faded, but it would become easier to bear. He would become stronger, and be able to handle the pain better. If he did not break down before that, but he would not let himself do that. He would live on in whatever way he could, because that was what his mother would have wanted.

 “I know you’re watching over me, and I’ll make you proud, I promise,” Jongin whispered, voice strained with emotion. Tears were running down his cheeks, but no one would see them in the rain. At least the rain was good for something.

 Sniffing and rubbing at his eyes, Jongin stood up. There were two large dirt stains on the knees of his jeans, but he did not care. They needed to be washed after today anyway.

 Saying his last goodbye, Jongin turned around and walked out of the cemetery, allowing his tears to drain completely on his walk back to the train station. When he boarded the train, he wiped his face of water, and only the slight red framing his eyes whispered of his crying.

 

 The next day, Jongin woke up with a headache and a stuffy nose. He had taken a warm, long shower after coming home, but apparently he had been too late.

 It was not as if Jongin had not suffered through his fair share of colds during the last three years, but he had become quite good at avoiding them. Seemed as if his luck had run out, though. After all, luck needed to replenish every now and then, and could not always keep him safe.

 Dragging himself out of bed, Jongin pulled on some warm clothes and made himself a cup of tea. Thankfully, he did not have any early classes today, and was not in a hurry. Maybe he would even have the time to go past the store to buy some cold medicine, since he had used it all the last time he had been sick.

 

 “You look awful,” Taemin commented as Jongin collapsed into the seat next to the other. “You really need to get yourself an umbrella. Or a full set of rain clothes, complete with boots.”

 “My birthday is in a few months,” Jongin commented, sniffing a bit. “And it’s not that bad. Is it?”

 Taemin looked Jongin up and down, before shrugging. “Still look handsome, but slightly disgusting. Shouldn’t you be home resting? Aren’t you contagious?”

 “Can’t miss school, and I might be, but I’m not coughing yet, so hopefully not? Anyway, it’s not like I closely interact with anyone except for you,” Jongin answered, folding his arms on the table and placing his head on top of them. “Wake me up when class starts, please?”

 Taemin hesitantly agreed, and Jongin could hear him scoot his chair a bit further away, but Jongin did not really care. After all, it was probably better if Taemin was not too close, and got infected as well.

 

 Something pushed at his shoulder, and Jongin groggily blinked his eyes open to tilt his head to the side and take a look at what was disturbing him.

 “Class is about to start,” Taemin told him, and Jongin nodded and sat up straight.

 He thought he would feel better after some rest, but if anything, he just felt worse. He was barely able to keep up with the teacher, taking minimal notes, and ignoring Taemin’s worried glances his way. Jongin could get through this, no worries, it was not that bad. And anyway, Jongin was spectacular at lying to himself.

 When the bell rang, Jongin stumbled out of his seat, a hand steadying him.

 “Jongin…,” Taemin said, but Jongin waved his concern away.

 “I’m fine, got up too quickly. It’s my last class for today, so I’m heading home,” Jongin said, packing his belongings into his backpack and smiling at Taemin. “Talk to you later.”

 “Call me if you need anything,” Taemin said, obviously still worried, but Jongin promised he would, and then he walked away with a small wave, heading outside.

 It was still raining today, but not as bad as it had the day before. The temperatures were steadily dropping with each and every day, and Jongin shivered as he headed towards the train station. He would have to wait for his train today, and did not find it necessary to hurry. Not that he thought he could hurry, either, but still.

 Sighing softly, Jongin turned his face towards the sky, hoping the rain could help wash the uncomfortable heat out of him. He was cold, extremely so, but also hot, and he hated that feeling.

 Suddenly, the light penetrating his eyelids seemed to darken, and the rain disappeared. Confused, Jongin opened his eyes to see something black above his head.

 “You’re such an idiot,” somebody muttered beside him, and Jongin spun around so quickly that he momentarily lost his balance, a hand shooting out to help him right himself.

 “H-hyung?” Jongin stammered, eyes going wide as they met with a pair of owl-like ones. They were frowning, at him, and it made Jongin cower back a little bit.

 Do Kyungsoo was a short, cute guy, whose personality did not quite match up with his appearance. He and Jongin had a few classes together, and they hung out with the same crowd, so Jongin had seen enough of the ‘SatanSoo’ to make sure he did not anger the smaller. Which he apparently had done now, since Jongin was subjected to a really scary glare.

 “I saw you in school, you looked sick, and then I find you walking in the rain without an umbrella?” Kyungsoo muttered, full lips pursing. “You’re really an idiot, aren’t you?”

 “I’m… sorry?” Jongin mumbled, worrying his lower lip a bit. He was still feeling a bit faint from the surprise appearance, but tried to not let it show.

 Kyungsoo sighed, before nodding down the street. “I’ll take you home, since I have an umbrella, and you don’t.”

 “No, hyung, it’s okay, you don’t have to do that,” Jongin exclaimed, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit, and it was not only because of him being sick. Kyungsoo pinned him with another look that had Jongin quickly shut up.

 “I know I don’t have to, but I will. You’re all flushed and look like you might collapse at any second, and I don’t want that on my conscience,” Kyungsoo said as he began to walk, and Jongin fell into step next to him. “Where are we going?”

 “Train station,” Jongin mumbled, his fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket. “Thank you, hyung.”

 Kyungsoo merely shrugged, and they fell into silence. But it was not an uncomfortable silence. Jongin was not that big of a fan of talking, and he knew Kyungsoo was not either. Why fill the silence with awkward talking when you could just be quiet?

 “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with an umbrella,” Kyungsoo suddenly said, voice low, but it still jerked Jongin out of his thoughts. “Why not?”

 Jongin had never told anyone about why he did not use umbrellas anymore. Taemin knew, since he and Taemin had been friends since they were young, but no one else did, and Taemin had never heard Jongin explain it, either. Taemin had just pieced the pieces together on his own, and accepted it. Even if he did try to convince Jongin to get a new umbrella, or some rain clothes, every now and then.

 So Jongin just shrugged, his eyes on the ground beneath him.

 “I don’t like umbrellas, they always break,” he answered. Because it was the truth, his umbrellas always did break. And it had been three years since his mother had stopped being able to help him with his umbrellas.

 The reminder stung, but Jongin forced himself to hold back the tears. He felt exhausted and just wanted to collapse into his bed (or onto the pavement), but he needed to keep himself together for a little while longer. Just until he got home, thanked Kyungsoo, and closed the door behind him.

 Kyungsoo just hummed, and Jongin knew he did not think it was the full truth, but thankfully, Kyungsoo did not press the subject. Instead, they fell back into silence, the train station appearing in front of them.

 “You don’t have to follow me all the way, hyung,” Jongin said once they made their way onto the right platform, though he thought the slight warmth from Kyungsoo so close to him was pretty nice. “I don’t want to drag you across the city just to keep me out of the rain.”

 Kyungsoo looked up at Jongin with a small smile, and it warmed Jongin’s aching heart a little bit.

 “This is actually my train, too. I’ve seen you on it a few times, but you always looks so wrapped up in your own world that I didn’t want to bother you,” Kyungsoo said, and Jongin’s eyes widened in surprise.

 Oh, if only Kyungsoo knew that it was in his own pain, and not world, that Jongin had been wrapped up in, and that Jongin had prefered to be bothered out of it…

 “Really?” Jongin said instead. “I don’t mind, though, hyung.”

 Kyungsoo’s smile widened, and it managed to lure a small smile out of Jongin as well.

 “I’ll keep that in mind next time, then.”

 A few minutes later, the train arrived, and they climbed on board. Kyungsoo forced Jongin to sit down, arguing that Jongin would fall over at each and every turn, and Jongin kind of agreed, so he did not try to put up a fight. Kyungsoo placed himself in front of Jongin, as if to protect him from the others in the same cart. It was kind of cute, actually, how serious Kyungsoo looked whilst standing in front of him, feet firmly planted apart to keep his balance, one hand stretched up to hold onto the strap above him, and the other clutching the dripping umbrella.

 Jongin did not realize he was staring until Kyungsoo glanced down at him and caught him, eyebrows pulling together in a worried frown.

 “Are you okay?” he asked, and Jongin snapped back into reality.

 “Hm? Yes, sorry, tired,” Jongin answered, and it was true. But it was not the reason for his blatant staring, and Kyungsoo did not need to know that.

 Kyungsoo slowly nodded, before continuing to look out through the window behind Jongin, and Jongin let his eyelids fall closed as he leaned his head back.

 What felt like two seconds later, a warm hand was placed on Jongin’s thigh, and he jerked upright.

 “Take it easy, we're almost at your stop,” Kyungsoo said, his voice soothing, and Jongin just nodded as he sank back in his seat.

 These mini-naps were really turning out not to be good for him, as Jongin found himself with an even worse headache, barely able to keep his eyes open. Kyungsoo seemed to notice, since he helped Jongin stand up as it was time to exit the train, slipping an arm around his waist, and Jongin could not help himself from leaning into his warmth. It felt really nice.

 “I need you to stay awake, Jongin, I don't think I can carry you, and I don't know where you live,” Kyungsoo said as they walked out of the train station, worry and amusement mixed in his voice. He somehow managed to keep his grip on Jongin and shield them both with his umbrella, and if Jongin’s thoughts had been a bit clearer, he would had been impressed.

 “I’m awake,” Jongin chuckled, because something about Kyungsoo’s words were really amusing, but he could not really remember what it was anymore.

 Kyungsoo managed to coax the direction out of Jongin, and Jongin managed to stay upright long enough to unlock the door to his apartment, and take his shoes off. Then everything went black for a moment, and when his vision returned, he was sitting on the floor, Kyungsoo gently shaking him.

 “Jongin? Jongin, are you okay?” Kyungsoo asked, and Jongin nodded. At least he think he did.

 “I’m fine,” Jongin said, grimacing as the talking made his headache worse.

 “Come on, let’s get you out of your wet jacket and into bed,” Kyungsoo mumbled. Jongin tried to help as much as possible, but in the end, it proved that he was a bigger liability than help.

 After some time, though, his jacket was off, and Kyungsoo managed to help Jongin stand up again, supporting him over to his bed. As soon as he was next to it, Jongin collapsed against that big softness, sighing as he felt it welcome him. Jongin rolled himself up in the cover, until he was a cocoon, only nose and up visible over the edge.

 Something was held against Jongin’s forehead, and it felt cold, so Jongin shivered. And then he shivered again, and again, until he was a shaking mess. Why was it so cold?

 “You’re really warm, I think your temperature is too high…,” Jongin heard Kyungsoo say, but his teeth were clattering too hard to say anything. He wanted to ask Kyungsoo to turn the radiators up, but he could not get the words out and would rather not risk his tongue.

 “I need to take your damp clothes off, Jongin,” Kyungsoo whispered, so much closer now, and Jongin peeled his eyes open just enough to see a shadow in front of him. “Are you okay with it?”

 Jongin slowly nodded, because yes, he was totally fine with it. He felt the wetness of his clothes against his skin and it was disgusting, and he really did not care that Kyungsoo would take his clothes off. He just wanted to be warm again.

 Kyungsoo made swift work of getting Jongin’s clothes off, but it might just have been Jongin’s time perception that was strange. Jongin did not really care about that either, since he was finally free of his clothes, even if it felt a bit colder. He would soon warm up. Hopefully.

 “I’m going to go to the store, I’ll be right back,” Kyungsoo told him, and Jongin wanted to tell Kyungsoo that it was okay, that he did not need to do this, he could just go home now, but Jongin could not find his mouth to speak anymore. His mind was getting foggier by the second and he felt it slowly succumbing to sleep.

 After all, that was probably what he needed. A really good sleep. And ignoring how well his naps had turned out, Jongin allowed his body to relax, darkness claiming him.

 

 Jongin did not remember much of the rest of the day. He spent most of it slipping in and out of unconsciousness, barely lucid enough for long enough than to note that Kyungsoo was still there, in his apartment.

 One time he woke up to a warm towel wiping down his body.

 One time, he woke up to being propped up against a warm chest, a warm arm around his waist, medication and then water being forced down his throat.

 One time he woke up to a cold compress being reapplied to his forehead, making him shiver, though most of his shivers had already subsided.

 And Jongin dreamt of warmth and happiness, and sunshine, instead of the normal darkness and rain. And it made him smile in his sleep, because it had been a long time since he had such pleasant dreams, and it just felt so good.

 

 The next time Jongin came awake, his apartment was dark. He managed to open his eyes and look around, vision a bit hazy, and figured that Kyungsoo had gone home already.

 Jongin’s throat felt extremely itchy, and before he knew it, a vicious cough tore through him.

 “Easy, easy,” a voice mumbled, and a warm hand began to rub his back.

 “H-hyung?” Jongin rasped out after his coughing had cleared, leaving him wheezing. “I thought you’d gone home?”

 Worried, owl-like eyes appeared in his vision, and Jongin blinked a bit more to see a small smile on heart-shaped lips.

 “And leave you to die on your own? No way,” Kyungsoo whispered, and Jongin suddenly had to blink back tears. “Jongin, are you crying? Hey, what’s wrong?”

 Everything was hurting, but Jongin knew it was not the physical pain that was wrong with him, making him cry. No, it was the thought of his mother, dying, as he was crying from the injuries he had sustained. She did not die alone, but Jongin had many times wondered what could have happened if he had just sucked it up, and tried to help her.

 Intellectually, he knew that he could probably not have done anything, considering how much more badly injured she had been, and the fact that even if his own injuries had not been fatal, they had not been far from. But a part of him still hated himself for just sitting there, crying, as his mother faded away.

 Fingers threaded themselves through his damp hair, pushing it out of his face, and Jongin liked the warmth across his skin. It felt good, and comforting, something he had not really felt during the last three years.

 “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Kyungsoo mumbled, and it helped. It really did help, even if everything was far from okay. “Just get it all out, I’m here.”

 And so, Jongin cried, sobbed so hard his shoulders shook, without the rain to hide his tears. And Kyungsoo stayed by his side, wiping tears away and comforting him. Not questioning anything, not asking him to stop, just allowing him to cry his heart out. And maybe Jongin had needed that.

 “Do you feel better now?” Kyungsoo asked as Jongin began to calm down, his tears coming to a stop.

 Even though his head hurt even more, and his eyes felt so swollen, Jongin nodded, because he did feel better. He felt as if a weight had been lifted, and maybe it had, in a way.

 “Good,” Kyungsoo said, smiling softly. “I think you should eat something, I made you some soup.”

 Jongin did not feel hungry, not at all. He actually felt a bit nauseous, but he knew the food might help, and so he let Kyungsoo help him into a sitting position. The room was much warmer, Kyungsoo explaining he had turned the temperature up, and Jongin was grateful.

 “I have no idea what you prefer, so I made some basic chicken soup,” Kyungsoo said as he returned with a bowl of the soup, carefully sitting down on the bed next to Jongin.

 “I love chicken, so good choice, hyung,” Jongin said, voice raspy and hoarse after all the crying and the cold.

 Kyungsoo smiled again, and Jongin felt his own lips respond to the smile automatically. Yes, Kyungsoo was really adorable.

 Jongin managed to get through half of the bowl, Kyungsoo feeding him so expertly that not a single drop was spilt in the bed. Afterwards, he had some water, before being helped to lie down, Kyungsoo heading into the small kitchen at the other end of the room to clean up.

 Jongin snuggled back beneath his cover, watching the other run back and forth in the kitchen, looking so concentrated with his task. It reminded Jongin of his mother, and the pain came back in his chest, but Jongin found it a bit easier to ignore now. He was still exhausted, and with the heavy warmth of chicken soup in his stomach, he did not really feel like crying anymore. Maybe that was the secret to surviving; chicken soup?

 “Jongin?” someone said close to him, and Jongin jerked awake, blinking in the low light.

 Kyungsoo was on his knees in front of his bed, large eyes darting all over Jongin’s face, making Jongin feel a bit like hiding.

 “Hm?” Jongin answered instead, pulling the cover closer around him.

 “I need to go now, but I’ll be back tomorrow to see how you’re doing. I’m also kidnapping your key, so don’t you even think of trying to go out tomorrow. Stay in bed, sleep, there’s more soup in the fridge, and the medicine is on the counter.”

 Jongin could not help but smile at the thoughtfulness and concern Kyungsoo displayed for him.

 “Don’t worry, hyung, I think I’ll manage,” Jongin said, voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper by now, and Kyungsoo frowned.

 “I don’t know if I agree with that, but I have no other choice than trusting you,” Kyungsoo mumbled, before looking to Jongin’s bedside table. “I put my number in your phone, and your phone on there. I hope you don’t mind, but you didn’t have a password, and I want you to be able to reach me if anything happens, so…”

 “I don’t mind,” Jongin said, rolling his eyes, smile still intact. “Go home, it looks like it’s late.”

 Kyungsoo merely shrugged, before he got up and headed towards the door. Jongin watched him put his shoes and jacket on, grabbing his umbrella, before holding up a hand in goodbye and walking outside. The door clicked closed, the lock clicked in place, and Jongin was once more alone.

 But Kyungsoo had promised to come visit the next day, so Jongin did not feel too bad about it.

 

 Just as Kyungsoo had promised, he showed up the next day. Jongin had managed to get out of bed to go to the bathroom and take the medicine, but too exhausted to do anything more. So Kyungsoo had once more decided to feed him, even if Jongin protested - albeit weakly - this time.

 “I’m not a child, you don’t have to feed me…”

 Kyungsoo gave him a stern look, before holding the spoon up again.

 “You’re not a child, but sick, so I’ll help. Now, open your mouth, or I’ll pinch you to get you to open it.”

 Jongin obediently opened his mouth, but pouted as soon as he had swallowed.

 “I’m sick, you shouldn’t threaten me like that,” Jongin whined, making Kyungsoo smile a bit as he dipped the spoon back into the soup.

 “If you do as I say, I don’t have to threaten you,” Kyungsoo simply said, before holding the spoon up once more. “Open up.”

 This time, Jongin managed to eat almost all of the soup, and he earned himself a proud grin from Kyungsoo.

 “You seem much better today, that’s good,” Kyungsoo said absently as he began to clean up after the meal, Jongin sinking back into his bed.

 “I normally don’t stay sick for long,” Jongin answered.

 Kyungsoo paused, looking over at Jongin and pulling his lower lip between his teeth, and Jongin had a feeling that something bad was coming.

 “Jongin… Why do you never bring an umbrella with you?”

 Jongin looked down at his cover, fingers pulling at a loose thread.

 “Because my umbrellas always break,” he answered, just like last time. Just like always.

 “But there’s more to it, right? And it has something to do with that scar in your shoulder, right? And that horrible accident three years ago?”

 Jongin’s hand immediately flew to his shoulder, feeling the uneven scar where he had been impaled. He refused to look up, even as he heard Kyungsoo getting closer.

 “I… Looked you up online yesterday, Jongin. When I saw the scar, I thought that maybe you had been in an accident, so I googled your name. And found out about your accident. I’m sorry about your mom…”

 Jongin clenched his jaw at that. So many people had told him they were sorry about his mother, and yet it did nothing to help. Neither back then, nor now.

 “I know it’s probably not a comfort, but still… But I don’t get why you don’t use an umbrella, though. If anything, you should be afraid of the rain, bundling up in rain clothes and with umbrellas to keep out of it, if it traumatized you, right?”

 “The accident has nothing to do with me not having an umbrella,” Jongin bit out. “I wasn’t traumatized into not using an umbrella.”

 Kyungsoo was by Jongin’s bed now, sinking down onto his knees next to Jongin and looking up at him with those large eyes, filled with sorrow and worry, and confusion. Jongin looked away from them, not wanting to see all of those feelings.

 “Then why?” Kyungsoo asked.

 But Jongin remained quiet. At least for a while. Until he realized he actually _wanted_ to tell Kyungsoo. He wanted to say it, put it into words, and get it off his chest.

 “I… My mom always fixed my umbrella whenever it broke,” Jongin finally got out, his voice barely above a whisper, Kyungsoo having to lean in closer to hear him even in the relative silence inside of the apartment. “So after my umbrella broke after the accident, I stopped using umbrellas…”

 Kyungsoo leaned back, a small, exasperated smile on his lips.

 “I don’t know if I should call you cute, or an idiot,” he said, and Jongin looked over at him in shock. “It’s kinda adorable in a really horrible way, but at the same time, _really_ stupid.”

 Jongin had begun pouting as Kyungsoo talked, not knowing if he should feel offended or not, but settling for it anyway. He had no one to help him with his umbrella, and his umbrella always broke, so what else was he supposed to do?

 “You stopped using umbrellas all together because your mom died, choosing to risk sickness and possible death instead of simply getting a new umbrella, or asking someone to help you,” Kyungsoo continued, his smile turning a bit sadder. “It sounds a bit like… Like you’re being unnecessarily reckless and using it as an excuse. I’m sorry, but that’s what it sounds like.”

 “I’m not suicidal,” Jongin said, frowning, not liking this at all, actually. It was much better when Kyungsoo was insulting him compliments, not this deep psychological digging…

 “I’m not saying that you’re suicidal, Jongin,” Kyungsoo said, sighing softly and chewing on his lower lip as his eyes settled on the wall, thinking through his next words before saying them. “You’ve not given up on life in that way, but you’re accepting defeat too easily. You’re continuing to live your life, but you’re not making sure that you’ll _keep_ living it, more like you’ll accept whatever comes from you not being careful. Like getting a serious disease because you decided you didn’t want to ask for help with your umbrella. Like you’re living for as long as it’ll take for your recklessness to kill you. You’re not actively seeking death, but not really preventing it either. Does it make sense? It made more sense in my head…”

 Jongin’s head was spinning slightly, and it was not only because of him being sick. No, it was because he understood, he got what Kyungsoo was saying, and he realized that it was closer to the truth than he was comfortable admitting.

 “I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo said, bringing Jongin out of his thoughts. “Coming here to help you and then attacking you with stuff like this… I’m sorry for making assumptions. It’s not my place, and I have really no idea what you’re going through, so I can’t really say anything. I just… Wish you would be a bit more careful with yourself, Jongin. I don’t want to see you get hurt, especially not by something easily preventable.”

 And as Jongin looked into Kyungsoo’s conflicted eyes, he realized a few things. The first thing was that he really was an idiot. The second thing was that he had spent too long time in the past and in self-wallowing, and forgotten to actually live. His mother would have cuffed the back of his head and told him to get his act together if she had seen him now.

 And the third thing was that Jongin really did not like seeing Kyungsoo get up and walk towards the door, looking upset. But Jongin did not call out to him, because Jongin realized he had some more thinking to do. He might have started to understand some things, but it was all still quite new, and he needed a bit more time.

 “There’s still some soup in the fridge,” Kyungsoo said as he picked up his umbrella, looking slightly to the side of Jongin, but not directly at him. “You seem much better, so I hope you get well soon.”

 “Hyung? Thank you,” Jongin said, and it made Kyungsoo look up at him in surprise, so Jongin offered him a smile. He was thankful, truly thankful, for everything that Kyungsoo did, and more than Kyungsoo knew - at least for now.

 Kyungsoo nodded, before turning around and walking out. Jongin did not miss his key being left on the chair in the entrance, or the fact that the door was not locked after it had been closed. And somehow, it made Jongin feel a bit sad. It had only been two days, not even a full twenty-four hours, but it had still been nice to be taken care off.

 But now it was over, and he was alone once more, sighing into the silence. He needed this, though. He needed the solitude to think things through properly.

 

 Two days later, Jongin was feeling much better. He could probably have been even better, but he had spent the entire night after Kyungsoo had left thinking, not getting enough sleep and slipping back into sickness for a little while. It had cleared up, though, and Jongin had called and invited Taemin over after having taken a shower.

 Taemin had showed up, surprised over the invitation, bringing food (fried chicken) with him. It had been a long time since Jongin had invited Taemin over, the latter always being the one suggesting things, and the first thing Jongin did was apologize for being a crappy friend.

 “Uhm, no, it’s fine,” Taemin had said, putting the bags down on the kitchen counter and frowning in confusion. “You lost your mother, I get that you’ve been a bit absent, it’s not that strange?”

 “It’s been three years, I should’ve started to get over it,” Jongin said, smiling a bit. “Mom would kick my ass if she was here…”

 Taemin hummed as he leaned against the counter, nodding.

 “She probably would have. She was a smart woman. And you’re her son, so you’re a smart kid, but what’s brought this revelation upon you? That cold of yours slapped some sense into you?”

 Jongin’s smile softened a bit, because it was partially true. The cold had helped a lot, but it was not the reason.

 “You remember the day I was sick in school?” Jongin asked, Taemin nodded. “On my way home, I ran into Kyungsoo-hyung. He called me an idiot for not bringing an umbrella, actually. Then he made sure I got home, and I think I would’ve passed out on the street if it weren’t for him… He cooked me food and got me medicine, and made sure I was dry and warm…”

 Jongin lost his words a bit at the sly grin Taemin was sending him, Jongin’s cheeks heating up a little bit.

 “Why are you looking at me like that?” Jongin asked, and Taemin wiggled his eyebrows at him.

 “Kyungsoo-hyung, huh?” Another wiggle. “Hyung took great care of you?”

 Jongin gently slapped Taemin’s face away as he understood what he was implying, laughing a bit.

 “Not like that, you idiot, I was barely conscious!” Jongin exclaimed, shaking his head. “Mind out of the gutter, please! But he took care of me, and he asked me about why I never bring an umbrella, and he made me realize-”

 “That you’re in love with him?”

 “No, stupid, that I might not be actively suicidal, but I was acting as if I didn’t care if I died or not.”

 Taemin made a small grimace at that, sobering up a little bit.

 “That took a deep plunge… But you kinda was. Acting like you didn’t care, I mean.”

 Jongin nodded, the laugh gone now.

 “I know. Like I said, I realized. And I’m sorry about that, that must have been hard on you, too… But I took some time thinking, going through the past three years, and I realized it was really stupid of me. Mom might be dead, but I know she wouldn’t want me to die, and I don’t really want to die, either. I want to see the world, experience things, and then do the things mom never got to do. For her, and for me,” Jongin said, and a small smile found its way upon his lips again. “I just needed a cold and some care to remember.”

 Taemin reached forwards and placed a hand on Jongin’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

 “I’m happy you’ve finally realized. I honestly didn’t know how much longer I could see you do stupid shit before intervening… I tried to do it a few times, but I… I didn’t want you to get mad at me and leave me, and lose your best friend, so… I chickened out. I’m sorry.”

 “Don’t worry, it’s okay, I understand. I don’t think I would’ve cancelled our friendship, but yeah… Thank you for being there for me, throughout it all.”

 “Of course, it’s what friends are for, after all!” Taemin said, grinning, before he motioned for the bags on the counter. “Let’s eat before it gets cold, all of this emotional talk has gotten me hungry!”

 Jongin happily agreed, because he felt the same. He felt drained, but in a good way. And as he and Taemin ate and joked around late into the night, Jongin realized he had missed this. He had missed his best friend, even if Jongin himself had been the reason for it all. It was just really good to have it all back to the way it had been before. Almost, at least.

 

 The day after Taemin’s visit, it was raining. And Jongin still hated rain, but this time he felt a bit thankful for it, since it gave him a perfect excuse for what he had to do.

 Chewing on his lower lip, Jongin paced back and forth in his small apartment, staring at the phone in his hands, and at a specific number in his contacts, until he could wait no more. Pressing the number and taking a deep breath, muttering something about hell or highwater, Jongin held the phone to his ear and waited.

 Three tones went off before the line clicked, and a low voice answered. Jongin repressed the panic and cleared his throat, before talking.

 “Hi, hyung, it’s me. Jongin,” he said, and waited once more.

 “Hi, I know. It says your name on my phone,” Kyungsoo said, but he did sound a bit surprised. “Is everything okay? Did you get even more sick…?”

 “Huh? What, no, I’m fine, I’m almost back to full health again,” Jongin said, closing his eyes and pressing a hand against his forehead, forcing the next words out. “I was just thinking that, uhm, I know your first class is the same as mine today, and it’s raining, and I still don’t have an umbrella, but I was wondering, uhm, if you would mind sharing…?”

 The line went dead quiet, and Jongin quickly looked at his phone, but the call was still connected. So instead he waited, a minute ticking past, until he was about to ask if Kyungsoo was still there.

 “Yes. I mean, no, I don’t mind sharing, sure, we can share,” came Kyungsoo’s reply, a bit rushed, and it made Jongin break out in a large grin, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. “I’ll text you when I’m outside.”

 “Okay,” Jongin said, and after they had said goodbye and hung up, he burst out in improvised dancing.

 He felt so happy and alive, much more than he had in the last three years, and it was a wonderful thing. His mother’s death had been a horrible experience, and it still hurt, but Jongin knew he could not give up life because of that, and right now, in this moment, he did not _want_ to give up on his life either.

 Twenty minutes later, Kyungsoo texted, and Jongin basically flew down the staircase after having decided that the elevator would take too long. Bursting through the lobby doors, he saw Kyungsoo standing there, umbrella shielding him from the rain, owl-like eyes even larger with surprise.

 “Hi, hyung,” Jongin breathed as he hurried beneath the umbrella, suddenly feeling a bit shy about being so close to the other. “Thank you for picking me up.”

 “No need to thank me, Jongin,” Kyungsoo said, smiling softly. “It’s my pleasure, really.”

 They smiled at each other, before setting off down the road, a comfortable silence settling between them. Today, they were walking so close that their shoulders touched, even if Jongin did not need the support. And each and every time they made contact, Jongin felt all giddy inside, until he felt like he was going to suffocate from happiness. But in a good way.

 “So, I was thinking a bit as I walked over here,” Kyungsoo suddenly said, making Jongin look down at him. There was a faint blush to his cheeks, and Jongin internally cooed over how cute he looked. “You don’t really need to get a new umbrella. I mean, they just break anyway. And if you share an umbrella, you won’t have to worry about that, or asking for help with your broken umbrella…”

 Jongin’s heart began to speed up at that, and he knew he was blushing just as much as Kyungsoo did, but he loved the feeling of it.

 “Hey, hyung? Do you want to keep sharing your umbrella with me?” Jongin asked, coming to a stop, and Kyungsoo also came to a stop, looking up at Jongin with those large eyes, before a large smile parted his lips.

 “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll share my umbrella with you,” Kyungsoo said, and Jongin did not think he had ever seen a more beautiful person before, and he _really_ wanted to kiss those heart-shaped lips.

 Before Jongin had the chance to, though, Kyungsoo had gotten up on the tips of his toes to press his lips against Jongin’s, a sudden spark going through Jongin’s body, and he was so happy that he was alive now. And when they parted, Kyungsoo was grinning at him.

 “I’m so happy you decided to start living properly again,” Kyungsoo said, and Jongin had to laugh, because Kyungsoo was mirroring his thoughts.

 “Me too,” Jongin said, and they began to walk again, Jongin bumping his shoulder against Kyungsoo’s. “Thank you for reminding me.”

 Kyungsoo’s hand found Jongin’s, fingers lacing together, and for a split-second, Jongin had felt cold, dead fingers, but he quickly pushed that memory away, letting the feeling of Kyungsoo’s warm hand chase that memory away. It felt good and it felt right, and that was all Jongin needed. He would never erase a single memory he had of his mother, but Jongin would let Kyungsoo balance out the bad with the good, and help him make the burden easier to carry.

 Maybe this was how you did it, with chicken soup and tender care? It seemed right, at least to Jongin.

 

~*~

 

_One year later…_

 

 It was the anniversary for the death of his mother, and Jongin was standing in front of her grave, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. It was raining, as usual, but the rain did not bother Jongin today.

 Because next to Jongin, Kyungsoo was standing, holding an umbrella above both their heads, shielding them from the rain.

 “Hello, mom. I’m sorry I’ve been away for so long, and that I didn’t bring Soo until now,” Jongin said as he squatted down and put the flowers into one of the holders next to the small gravestone. “I’ve been a bit busy, but I’ve thought about you. Anyway, this is Do Kyungsoo, and he’s my boyfriend. He also saved my life, but I know you would’ve loved him anyway. He takes great care of me, almost as good as you did.”

 Kyungsoo sputtered a bit behind Jongin, and Jongin did not know if it was because he was offended, or because he did not want Jongin’s mother’s ghost to be angry with him. Jongin still found it cute.

 “Good news, I don’t have to walk in the rain anymore! Kyungsoo makes sure that I’m always shielded from the rain, just as you did. He’s a really good guy, and I wish you’d met him, but I know you approve of him. After all, I love him, and I know that’s good enough for you.”

 A small gasp was heard, but Jongin ignored it for the moment being, wanting to finish his little talk before dealing with it.

 “I hope you’re not worrying too much about me, and that you see how happy I am. I hope you’re not seeing everything, though, I don’t think you’d appreciate that, no matter how much you love me…” Kyungsoo seemed to choke on something, and Jongin chuckled. “Yeah, I’m kinda glad you can’t really walk in on us, like Soo’s mom did, because that was kind of horrible, and I still blush whenever I see her. Anyway, I hope all is good wherever you are, and that you’re happy. I’m happy, so you should be happy as well. I love you, mom, and I miss you, but I’ll see you later. In many, many years, we’ll meet again.”

 Finished with his little speak, Jongin stood up again, and turned towards Kyungsoo. The smaller looked like a cross between sick and furious, and Jongin had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing.

 “I can't believe you brought that up again - in front of your mother nonetheless - when I'd just managed to forget about it!” Kyungsoo hissed, hitting Jongin’s left shoulder. He always made sure to abuse Jongin’s left shoulder, knowing the scar on his right side was a bit sensitive. “And I can't believe you just confessed your love to your mother before you told me!”

 At the second hit, Jongin could not hold his laugh back, amazed with how adorable Kyungsoo was even when he was angry.

 “Of course she had to know first, she's my mom!” Jongin exclaimed, before cupping Kyungsoo’s cheeks and looking into his eyes. “I love you, Do Kyungsoo. Thank you for calling me an idiot a year ago.”

 A light blush spread over Kyungsoo’s cheeks as he weakly punched Jongin’s shoulder again.

 “I love you, too, idiot. And I might have told my mom about it already…”

 Jongin laughed again as he brought Kyungsoo closer for a kiss, still feeling so incredibly happy about being alive, and experiencing all of these things, like love. And he knew that his mother was proud, hopefully watching over him with happiness and pride overflowing in her heart.


End file.
